


Paper Faces

by GreyMoth



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dresden Files Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Halloween Gift Exchange, M/M, No knowledge of the Dreseden Files required, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 14:02:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16476926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMoth/pseuds/GreyMoth
Summary: Either Tony's been cursed with really bad luck, or someone with magic abilities is out to get him.Steve is the only Wizard Detective around and this may be more than he can handle.





	Paper Faces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainmistyknight (ayna222)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayna222/gifts).



> I started out with really good intentions and was going to write an actual full-length fic, and then life happened. It should at least hit on all of the criteria of the request! Kinda/sorta.
> 
> Prompt: Masquerade ball and witches
> 
> Huge thanks to Atsadi for beta reading this for me <3 Any mistakes are my own, especially the formatting ones.

The icy wind cuts right through Steve’s suit jacket the moment he steps off of the bus. Even with the cold, it’s a beautiful night in New York City: clear with the moon at half. Light pollution blocks out the stars, but the evening is alive in flashing colours and excited voices. Even from a few blocks away he can hear the press calling out questions at the mansion’s front door, and can see the sharp flicker of high-powered cameras.

Having to push through the thickening crowd starts to make him rethink his decision to take the bus. Not regret, but rethink. People glance over their shoulders at him, some getting that spark of recognition while most just stick with dirty looks. They do grudgingly move out of the way at his muttered apologies.

Claustrophobia is starting to sink into his skin by the time he makes it close enough to see the entrance, where Carol is standing. It only withdraws its claws when she catches his eye and waves. Steve waves back, his breath escaping in a relieved rush as he pushes forward with renewed vigour. Carol glances over at the man she is talking to, then makes her way towards him, parting the crowd in a way Steve can never quite manage.

“Glad you made it,” she says in greeting. “And fashionably late, too. Tony won’t know whether to be disappointed or impressed.” She grins at him and he can't help but grin back, though he's sure his is more strained.

“The bus got caught in traffic,” he explains. “Things are busy around here for some reason.”

Carol nods sagely as they move the last few feet through the crowd back towards the entrance. The looks Steve is getting are now ones of envy, and a few more people are starting to really recognize him. Probably from the gossip tabloids as of late: the ones that speculate over his relationship with Tony rather than his detective business.

Now that he’s closer to the front, he recognizes Rhodey despite the silver mask that covers the top part of his face. He’s standing there watching everything with easy amusement, but his eyes stray inside the building every so often like a wolf keeping watch over his territory.

“Where’s your mask?” Steve asks Carol, and laughs when she gently smacks his shoulder. Rhodey laughs too, reaching up to touch the edge of his in a way that made Steve suspect that he was not used to it wearing it yet.

“Not all of us get to play dress-up at work,” Carol teases. “Rhodey's going to take you in and show you around. He knows the security details as well as I do.”

“Glad you made it, Steve," Rhodey says with genuine warmth. "I have it on good authority that Tony has a mask ready for you just in case you forgot yours.”

Steve pulls out his mask from his jacket pocket and holds it up triumphantly. It’s black imitation velvet, wrinkled to all hell, with weird bunches around the edges—marks of him buying the first one he saw at the dollar store that wasn’t plastic.

“He’s going to burn it on sight. I love it, let’s go.” Rhodey clasps him on the shoulder and steers him inside. “We’ll catch up with you later, Carol.”

Carol waves them off, already heading over to where Misty is surveying the reporters, and once they’re safely inside Steve takes the chance to look around as well. The lifestyle of the rich and famous takes time to get used to, more time than Steve has had. There’s so much excess that Steve feels something shrivel up inside of him in self-consciousness.

The walls are covered in spiderwebs with cool-toned lights pointed at them, casting mysterious shadows. Ghostly holograms run through the guests: Victorian-era lords and ladies in elaborate clothing who dance, wander through the crowd, and congregate in small clusters before vanishing with soft laughter that blends in with the music. Candles flicker in the corners, held aloft by wrought-iron posts. There are even decorative bats hanging from the ceiling.

Carefully hidden beneath all of this are Runes. Most are the normal security ones Steve had suggested, but there are a few that shimmer with magic that has the distinct feeling of Other: Tony’s Valkyrie, Steve realizes after a few seconds.

Food is everywhere, piled on tables against the walls, and there is even an option for hot food in a room off to the side. There are two separate bars with multiple staff handing out drinks...

All smiling with teeth just a bit too sharp. Their reflections are absent in the mirrors around the bar, probably edited out with some sort of technological marvel that Steve will never understand. He laughs when he realizes that Tony has dressed his staff as vampires.

“Halloween is his favourite excuse to have a party,” Rhodey says, his voice fond but also a bit worried. “I think he likes it because it’s easy to sneak out of.” Steve glances over in surprise, and Rhodey shrugs. “You should know by now that he’s not always like what you see in the media.”

Rhodey leads him through the groups of people mingling on the dancefloor and points out both the uniformed security and the people they have blending in. There are a few obvious surveillance cameras, but Rhodey points to a few spots that Steve would never have guessed had anything different about them.

“JARVIS is monitoring all activity right now, but the magic from the Runes has been causing the occasional glitch. It’s been making Tony act like a kid in a candy store that doesn’t stock his favourite chocolate bar.”

“Personally offended but excited and intrigued?” Steve guesses, and Rhodey flashes a quick smile.

“Got it in one.”

Steve finally bites the bullet and asks the question that’s been plaguing him since he got here: “Where is Tony?” He tries to make it sound casual—like he’s asking out of professional curiosity. Rhodey doesn’t look like he’s buying it. It shouldn’t surprise him; Tony is a smart guy, he’s going to surround himself with smart people.

“He’s…” Rhodey takes out his phone and taps a few times. “... over in the library with Brunnhilde. Want to go save him before she gets Odin to renegotiate the contract?”

Knowing about magic, using magic himself, and being on a first-name basis with Fae has not been enough to negate the amazement Steve feels over knowing that gods exist. And that they have jobs or run companies in the mortal realm.

"You texting with him?" Steve asks, looking around to try and figure out where the library is in the mess of doorways.

Rhodey starts moving down a corridor that takes them further from the party and noise. "JARVIS is giving me access to a live feed of the building, I just have to tell him what room I want."

"Technology is pretty incredible," Steve admits quietly. He's vowed to never say it in front of Tony, at least not when Tony would use it as an excuse to study Steve like a science project.

"The guy behind the technology is pretty incredible too," Rhodey says, just as quietly. He's looking at Steve like he knows what he was thinking, and maybe he does. Bucky’s constantly telling him that he wears his heart on his sleeve.

He’s constantly telling Bucky to shut up.

“An incredible pain in my ass,” Steve says, his voice sounding whiny even to him. “Most of the phone calls I’ve been getting recently have been about the novelty of talking to—and I quote—‘Tony Stark’s pet wizard’, or reporters trying to score an interview with him.”

Rhodey winces, not looking surprised. “The press can be… overzealous when it comes to Tony and the people in his life. You’re a bit of an oddity.”

“The crazy charity case that Tony is helping out to hide any of his scandalous dealings, you mean.”

The side eye he gets for that immediately makes Steve want to take the words back. “If you believe that, might as well throw in the rumours of you being an escort who specializes in long-term role-play.”

“You know I don’t believe it.”

“I think a part of you does.”

And once again Steve is reminded that Rhodey is so much more intuitive than Steve is used to. This one cuts too close, though. He wants to scoff at the tabloids and laugh at the garbage people are speculating, but there’s something in him that is constantly wondering, ‘What if they’re right?’

“Some of it gets to me,” Steve forces himself to admit, but can't find the words to explain why. Or maybe it's that he doesn't want Rhodey to realize how much he wants Tony to see him for more than his looks and magic, because he has a pathetic crush.

Rhodey has come to a stop in front of a door that has a soft glow coming from underneath. He's studying him, and Steve shifts on his feet nervously. "You know he's your number one fanboy, right? There are times I would swear he's looking up wedding venues after you've left."

"Oh," Steve hears himself saying, staring at Rhodey in wide-eyed shock.

Rhodey looks heavenward, says, "You're adults, figure yourselves out," and pushes open the door.

Tony is seated in an overstuffed armchair, looking radiant in a red tux laced with gold threads that glitter in a way that should be gaudy but is just beautifully eye-catching. He’s leaning towards an absolutely stunning woman who looks both familiar to Steve and close to tears. Beside them are two masks that lay together, tangled up on a side table, and the precious stones on one sparkle in the low light.

Steve quickly looks over at Rhodey, uncomfortable, wanting to give Tony privacy while also trying to smother a misplaced sense of betrayal. Rhodey is looking back at him, obviously exasperated.

"I meant what I said," Rhodey says pointedly, overtop Tony who has just noticed them.

"Here's the man of the hour! I was beginning to worry you were going to stand me up." Tony is grinning brightly until he looks back at the woman. He reaches out to gently touch her knee, eyes soft. "I'm sorry, Sunny. We'll finish talking tomorrow, okay?"

She nods, keeping her eyes downcast as she covers Tony's hand with one of hers and squeezes in gratitude. Tony cocks his head for a second before getting up just enough to gather her into a tight hug. It's intimate, but off somehow. Maybe it's that it's too raw, but Steve can't shake the niggling feeling that something isn't fitting right with the way she is curled up against Tony.

Slight movement in the corner draws his attention over to Brunnhilde, standing in the shadows. She isn't hiding, or at least she doesn't have the posture of someone hiding. It's like she's waiting, and the way she doesn't relax until Sunset draws back from Tony is all Steve needs to know she also thinks something is off.

Brunnhilde glances over at Steve and he meets her eyes very briefly as their magic brushes together in greeting. Hers thrums with immortal energy and sparks against his skin like static, leaving him with the distinct feeling of Other. Steve almost misses Sunset letting go of Tony and grabbing her mask, too caught up in his battle with fight-or-flight that being around Fae always inspires. He might never have noticed if Brunnhilde hadn't turned away first.

"Hopefully there's some punch left," he hears Sunset say as she adjusts her gold dress and tries to smooth out the wrinkles that have set in. It's a bit of a lost cause, which she must realize because she smiles sheepishly around the room. "You guys look like you have some serious things to discuss."

"Steve here has agreed to help with security," Tony tells her cheerfully, holding out his hand for her mask and helping her put it on.

Steve nods, throat suddenly tight with jealousy he instantly tramps down. "I just need Mr. Stark for a few minutes and then you can have him back," he says as politely as he can.

Sunset laughs and waves her hand breezily through the air while Tony squints at him. Or maybe he's glaring because of the 'Mr. Stark' thing, Steve can't really tell.

"If you need me I can last longer than a few minutes, Steve. Where's your mask?" Tony is suddenly starting to look way too cheerful.

"He's all yours," Sunset tells Steve, something in her voice hardening under the pleasant song of the words, and he watches her leave with growing unease.

Turning back, he startles at the sheer amount of annoyance—maybe even jealousy?—Tony is radiating. It vanishes in a heartbeat and Tony is back to smiling pleasantly, but Steve quickly glances at the other two people in the room for answers.

Rhodey has taken over the chair Sunset left while Brunnhilde is checking out the whiskey decanters. Neither of them offers up answers as to why he's suddenly feeling like he's in the dog house.

"I—uh, oh. Mask, right. I have it right here." He digs it from his pocket and holds it up triumphantly.

Tony blinks at it, looks at Steve's face, then back to the mask. The silence is becoming awkward and Steve's frantic brain refuses to come up with any combination of words that would make things better.

"You _could_ wear that," Tony says slowly, moving closer and amiably taking the mask from him. The cheap fabric slides against his skin, body-warm and sensual in a way Steve never thought a dollar store item could be. "You definitely could wear that, or you could wear one of mine that will hook you up with JARVIS."

Steve forces himself to look up from Tony's ribbon-wrapped fingers. "I will not be held responsible for breaking JARVIS."

"Thank you for the concern, but there is no need to fear 'breaking' me," JARVIS answers, speaking up for the first time since Steve got to the party. Despite having heard JARVIS speak freely through Tony's watch or phone in public, Steve can't help but startle when his voice emanates from the hidden speakers in the room. "You will be far enough away from my servers tonight that I will still be able to monitor the cameras."

"He's also gotten a hardware boost. I think I'm getting closer to magic-proofing this place." Tony grins happily at him, somehow managing to look both smug and charming at the same time. "Brunnhilde hasn't made anything explode in over a week now."

"Not accidentally explode," Brunnhilde drawls, and Tony turns to look at her suspiciously.

"What have you purposefully made explode?" Tony demands.

She shrugs and goes to sit across from Rhodey with a handful of pretzels. Steve hadn't even noticed that there was any food by the makeshift bar. It's very tempting to go investigate while Tony and Brunnhilde bicker over destroying company property.

"If you destroy something I need to know, or you need to stop breaking the cameras!"

"If I tell you then you drag me to your lab and make me poke at things with magic. That's not in my contract, Tony. You don't pay me enough to put up with that shit."

"It's for science," Tony whines at her, and Steve exchanges an amused glance with Rhodey.

"Mortal science. Asgard has been blending science and magic together for centuries."

Tony makes a wounded noise before he stops, seemingly to collect himself. "We'll talk about your insatiable need to say hurtful things later. Steve, let's get your mask and hook you up with security. Brunnhilde? I think the box fell into the cushions. Would you mind?"

She shrugs and fishes around herself for a second before pulling out a long narrow box. "This?"

"That's the one." Tony takes it from her to pass to Steve.

Knowing Tony, and the fact that it's connected to JARVIS, Steve is very hesitant to take it. "How much is the market value on this?"

Tony actually stops to consider it, and Steve's stomach drops. If it’s making Tony Stark stop to calculate, it’s going to be way out of Steve's price range. "Am I calculating my time in here or considering that part as a gift?"

"Never ask for prices," Rhodey cuts in before Steve can panic further. "He'll say some ridiculous amount that he'll make sound like pocket change and then somehow make you look like the crazy one. Just put it on and get out of here."

"Listen to Rhodey," Tony advises and wiggles the box in a way Steve suspects is supposed to be enticing.

It just makes him more apprehensive.

Opening the box doesn't ease the worry that he's about to wear something worth more than what he makes in a year. Instead of fabric, the mask is composed of thousands of silver wires that flow intricately together to give the illusion of gears.

"I have the same one but in red and gold," Tony announces excitedly. "It looks a bit weird like this because it doubles as a headset, but if you just lean down I can put it on."

They're close in height, with maybe an inch difference, but Steve leans down anyway, trying not to think of how good Tony smells or how gentle his fingers are threading through Steve's hair as he fiddles with the mask’s earbuds.

It takes a few more seconds than Steve thought it would for Tony to adjust the mask just so, and in actuality, Tony never does step back. He puts his hands on Steve's shoulders instead and smoothes out his lapels before adjusting his collar.

Steve glances up and—oh. His heart stutters under the weight of Tony's wistful gaze. It's so _tender_ , so longing, and yet it's gone the instant Tony realizes that Steve is looking back at him. It's not a leering look he's getting now, but a carefully closed-off one. Tonight is a fitting night for him to realize that the mask on the side table is a physical representation of Tony's every day.

"Rhodey's right," Steve says quietly, then louder. "People will be wondering where their host is. We don't want rumours of your demise."

"Not when they would be greatly exaggerated, I'm sure," Tony responds whip-quick.

Rhodey groans like he's in physical pain, leans over to grab the gold mask, and tosses it at Tony. "Get out of here, man, and take your cheap humour with you."

Tony squawks at him as he fumbles his catch. "Hey, you have an issue with my humour you take issue with yourself. You were there during my formative years."

Steve laughs and puts his hand on Tony's lower back before he can talk himself out of it. Tony immediately turns wide eyes on him and Steve takes the opportunity to steer him towards the door. "Your subjects are waiting out there and Rhodey needs to get back to non-magical security. I'm sure Carol is missing him by now."

Tony looks like he's thinking about it before he's nodding. "I would never want to cross Carol. Alright, we're going, we're going. Brunnhilde, you're good?"

She shrugs and gets up to follow them. "There's been a few twinges from the Runes but nothing that's registered as serious."

There's something about how she's phrasing it that has Steve glancing back at her nervously. She's frowning as her eyes dart around the hallway walls, and the frown doesn't go away when Steve brings her focus to him. She must be feeling it too: the unease that's prickling under his skin.

Everything has been leading up to this night. All of the break-ins, the threats, the security breaches at Stark Tower, the murders of several of Tony's business partners. It seems crazy to Steve now that what had brought them together was a rich man who'd been murdered in a hotel room.

"If something happens tonight I have faith in both of you. Keep my guests safe, okay?" Tony sounds completely serious, and Steve realizes suddenly that he still has his hand resting on the curve of Tony's back.

"Once again, that's not in my contract," Brunnhilde deadpans. She's running her fingertips over a Rune on the wall to promote happiness and comradery, removing any bite her words might have.

"Smart-ass," Tony drawls, his eyes darting down to where Steve's hand is now hanging awkwardly at his side. Steve clenches it on instinct and Tony's eyes dart back up and away.

The mask in Tony's hand glitters in the light as he puts it on. It does match Steve's, with the delicate wires and the makeshift gears, but it's flashier with the gold and hints of red that compliment Tony's suit exactly. Up close now, he can see that the gold threads in the jacket are also intertwining to form gears.

"JARVIS, we good to go?" Tony asks, fiddling with his clothing and making last-minute adjustments.

"I believe so, Sir. There's slight camera interference when Captain Rogers walks by, but I'm running diagnostics to determine if it's a hardware or software issue."

"Perfect," Tony all but purrs and glides through the doorway into the noise and chaos of the party. He's soaking it in, looking happy to be part of the crowd instead of separate like he usually is. People recognize him and everything about him draws the eye, but it's getting late and aside from glances and quick greetings he's left alone.

Steve gets a few looks with his ill-fitted suit and personalized mask, but no one calls him out. Probably because Tony is turning to him with his hand raised in offering.

"Maybe I have this dance, Captain?"

Steve glances around quickly, and yes, people are watching them. But Tony is looking at him like he's the only person in the room and Brunnhilde is watching for danger from a balcony. There's no reason for him to say no, and quite frankly he doesn't want to.

"I never learned how to waltz," he warns, taking Tony’s hand. Tony smiles mischievously and leads them out onto the dance floor.

"Put your hand on my shoulder and step back with your right foot. Step your left foot to the left, and your right comes beside, forward with the left, and sway the right foot forward. Now bring your left back to where you started."

They're both laughing by the time the song ends, but Steve manages to get the basic box step down for both leading and following. They'd even advanced to actually traveling a few feet, but only with Tony leading. The turns were put on hold after Steve had tripped—not just stepped on but actually tripped—over Tony's foot.

Steve immediately misses the way dancing gave him an excuse to be closer to Tony, the way Tony's body had moved against his own and the way the world had narrowed to just the two of them. Tony's eyes are bright as they watch him, and he's smiling in a way that Steve is beginning to realize has only been directed at him.

He wants to kiss it, that smile.

"Tony," Steve starts, voice low. "I—"

Something catches his attention. It's wrong, something's wrong. There's no thought involved. He pours his magic out into a shield over his back and pulls Tony in against him. It's not a second too soon: a spell crashes into it, almost causing it to shatter.

JARVIS is yelling in his ear about a sudden surge of hostile magic as Tony pulls them down to the floor. Not that it'll help, but Steve uses it as an excuse to hover over him and block as much of Tony as he can.

"Where did that come from?" Tony asks, trying to get out from under him and scan the room. Steve grits his teeth and pours more magic into his shield.

"10 o'clock, by the punch table," JARVIS says. "Something is blocking electronic signals—"

Whatever else he tries to say is cut off by a deafening shockwave that shatters all the glass in the room and throws people like rag dolls. The force of it rolls over Steve, impacting his shield and pushing him down even harder, despite Tony making a noise like the air is being forced from his lungs.

"This is not the time for dramatics," he grunts out, watching as Brunnhilde hurdles another spell, heading directly towards the threat.

"It's not dramatics when you're being crushed by over two hundred pounds of muscle." And, okay, Tony does have a point.

Steve deflects another sledgehammer of a spell that blasts out a portion of the wall a few metres away. Whoever is doing this has serious firepower, and skill, if they're taking on a Valkyrie while directing attacks at Tony.

"Let me up, let me up," Tony demands, pushing at Steve's shoulders. Steve glances down at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say to derail whatever suicidal plan Tony is probably concocting.

His thoughts must be showing on his face, because Tony rolls his eyes and does something with his body that flips them over and: "HOLY SHIT, TONY, NO!"

Steve yanks Tony down by the front of his shirt, wraps one arm around his shoulders, and quickly brings up the other one to reinforce the shield. Magic is all about belief, wherein the actions of the body can strengthen the convictions of the mind.

"I need to see what's going on," Tony hisses into his ear as he tries to wriggle loose.

It's Steve's turn to flip them over, but this time he gets up onto one knee, slightly in front of Tony. The position is bad, his back to where Brunnhilde is fighting, but Tony is safe in the crux of his legs and against his chest.

The symbolism of how his body is protecting Tony is important too; his shield is heavy on his back and he's reinforcing the defensive weight of his magic. Sure, he has the skills and the power to take on whoever it is, but so does Brunnhilde. He's going to have to trust her just as she's trusting him to keep Tony safe.

He might actually have the harder job, because Tony is watching the battle and vibrating like he wants to make a run towards the epicentre.

"No," Steve grinds out, his teeth clenching against a burst of pain as more magic slams against him.

"They're after me, Steve. This is about me and if I can just get over there—"

"No!" slips out, more biting and harsh than Steve intends. "Brunnhilde can handle it. Tony, you need to stay down."

"You said it yourself when we first met," Tony responds quickly, his hands tight on Steve's hip and his upper thigh. "Whoever it is has an extra magical boost. They've been planning this for who knows how long. They're taking a Valkyrie head-on. Maybe if I can find out who it is and talk to them—" Tony trails off, his face burrowing into Steve's neck. " _Please_."

Steve takes a second to just breathe, his chest tight with worry as he pulls Tony closer. "Okay. But stay behind me and duck if something comes flying at you. No heroics, no jumping in front of people, and no fucking dying. Promise me, Tony."

They pull apart just enough that Tony can look him in the eye and promise: "I will."

It takes all of his strength to let Tony go and swing around with his shield to face the fight. Tony is true to his word and stays behind him, not that Steve can really focus on where he is. Whoever is attacking has noticed them getting up, and a new volley of blasts to buffet Steve's shield, almost shattering it with brute force.

He pushes forward, shifting his magic to absorb and deflect rather than take the hits at full force. After a few feet, when there's a break in the onslaught, he drops his shield altogether and whispers, "Ventus glacies,” pouring all of his will and magic into the words.

Cold air sweeps around him before rushing towards the figure hidden amidst the bright light of battling magic. It hits with a thunderous crash. With all the heat in the air from the blasts of magical fire, it could have actually been thunder. Steve ignores the high pitched shrill in his head as the enemy figure goes down, hands pressing desperately against their ears.

Her ears, Steve realizes. Oh shit. Oh no. "Tony, don't--"

He's too late. Tony has been watching over his shoulder the entire time and probably recognized who it was before Steve did.

" _Sunny_ ," Tony is screaming, and Steve only just manages to grab him before he can race forward into harm's way. Tony falls back against him, not struggling, but he's digging his nails painfully into Steve's arm. "Sunny, oh god. What are you doing?!"

Brunnhilde has blood dripping from her ears and down the sides of her mask, but she's standing over Sunset’s crumpled figure with a grim expression and magic sparking from her fingertips. "Do you have those cuffs?" she asks, eyes never leaving Sunset.

From his own mask, Steve can hear JARVIS's crackling voice confirming their whereabouts and Rhodey volunteering to go grab them.

Sunset is still on her knees, hunched in on herself in pain as her ears bleed freely. It takes a second for Steve to realize that the only reason the damage isn't worse for himself, Brunnhilde, and Tony is because the earpieces in their masks have taken the worst of the damage.

"Your tech works," he whispers soothingly into Tony's hair, holding him close as Tony shakes.

The shaking doesn't stop, but Tony straightens up and leans forward toward Sunset. "Why? Why would she—she killed people, Steve. I was calling her a friend and she was murdering—" Tony shudders to a stop, his breathing rabbit-quick.

Steve just holds him, letting them both sink down to the floor before he starts to gently rock. It's not as helpful as it could be because he's too tense, watching Sunset for any sign that she's gearing back up to fight.

Brunnhilde slowly moves forward towards something on the ground by Sunset’s knee, and kicks it back towards Steve. Sunset tries to lunge for it, finally managing to free herself from the pain and shock she must have been feeling, only to be held back by Brunnhilde.

Steve extends a hand over the object—a wrought iron bracelet—and cobbles together some raw strands of his magic to poke at it. He already has his suspicions as to its purpose, and they are confirmed when the magic loops back to him. “JARVIS, can you link me in? It’s a suppression bracelet,” he says, and Brunnhilde glares down at Sunset. “It conceals magical energies. People would to use them to hide during the witch hunts.”

“She used it to hide so that she could kill,” Brunnhilde finishes, sounding completely disgusted. “No wonder she always felt so… empty.”

Tony shudders again and Steve holds him tighter, nuzzling into Tony’s hair along the edges of the mask.

“Fuck you,” Sunset snaps, her voice cracking and rough. “I wore it to keep myself safe. You think it’s easy keeping magic a secret when you’re always in the public eye? You think I want to end up in a lab somewhere having tests done on me? Men like Tony Stark find out and what do they do? They treat us like a science project!”

“Is that why?” Tony asks, his voice quiet. “You killed those people because you thought I had figured out you have magic?”

“No,” she spits out. “I did it because you took everything from me, and then did it all over again when I tried to rebuild.”

Tony jolts against Steve like he’s been hit. “Sunny, you kn—”

“Stop calling me that!” she yells, curling her body in over her knees. “You have no right to call me that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Sunset,” Tony tries again. “The quickest but most legal way to help your start-up was to buy it. That way you’d have all the financial backing you needed, and—”

“I wouldn’t have needed to create a company from scratch if you hadn’t driven my family into bankruptcy!”

The air is starting to hum with anger and magic, radiating off Sunset like a brewing storm. Brunnhilde immediately lashes out before Sunset can, and knocks her out cold with a good solid blast of magic.

Steve stares at them in shock: at Brunnhilde who’s suddenly looking bored, and at the slumped body lying prone on the floor.

Tony freezes in his arms, then bursts out with, “What the fuck, Brunnhilde?!”

“She was going to attack you, and Steve is shit at keeping you away from danger.” The last is said with lethal heat, and Steve shrinks back from her.

Tony glances back at him, first with the fires of wrath burning in his eyes, and then it cools into reluctant amusement. “Brunnhilde scares you, doesn’t she.” Tony says. It’s phrased like a question but there’s really no room for argument.

“She’s a Valkyrie,” Steve defends himself. “She works for Odin himself. Fuck yes she scares me.”

Brunnhilde is smirking at him and it makes him realize that his comm is still on. She’s hearing everything.

Tony reaches up and ruffles his hair while cooing, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe from the big scary battle lady.”

Steve groans and lowers his head against Tony’s shoulder, curving his body around him when Tony leans back into the embrace. He doesn’t bother to look up when Rhodey comes in, carrying Runed stone handcuffs that they put around Sunset’s wrists.

She’s taken away by Carol and Misty on a stretcher and under the control of a sleep spell, the jewelry she’d stored her extra power in either confiscated or destroyed in the battle. One of the rings is confirmed by Brunnhilde to be what Sunset had been storing magic in in order kill her victims in her signature way.

But neither Steve nor Tony move throughout all of this. They stay there, wrapped up in each other, surveying the damage and taking comfort until the clocks chime the midnight hour.


End file.
